There's Gotta Be a Reason
by selohtun
Summary: Set after Civil War. What would happen if Tony Stark got tired of it all? Doesn't really fit a specific narrative, sorry! First ever fanfiction, so reviews would be greatly appreciated! I'll be adding to it sometimes, but the story is technically done. Sort of inspired by "in another country, people die" by pprfaith on AO3. Title from "There's Gotta be a Reason" by Alec Benjamin.
1. Chapter 1

He made them weapons and gear, of course. They lived in the tower, they ate his food, and if Tony closed his eyes tight, he could almost imagine they were a team, a family, again. Of course, once his eyes opened, reality came crashing down all around him again, a bitter taste in his mouth, something that no amount of drinking could get rid of. There had to be reason for his life, right? But it marched and meandered, the world moving along without him.

The workshop was a perpetual mess, always locked, not that anyone wanted to see him. He could save the world again and again, and he'd always be the bad guy. It took years to even see past his own blindness to the world, and even then, he knew he was in debt. No amount of money could bring back the dead, no amount of sorrys could stop the guilt. Time passed in a haze, or in such a blur that it felt like it was running away from him. He built in the workshop. He'd eat, the mini-fridge there proving useful. Sometimes he'd pass out from exhaustion, but no matter what Tony did, he couldn't sleep. All he could see was Steve, aiming for his chest and-

Tony always woke up before it could happen.

So he'd work and work, letting the cycle repeat, anger and guilt fighting in his gut, a constant warfare in his head. Pepper had left, and he didn't blame her. He felt bad for himself, or tried to, and found that it wasn't worth the energy. She'd left because of him. It was always his fault, right? Snarky and full of himself, no way Tony Stark could feel bad, right? He'd ripped through the Accords, tearing them apart and putting it back together, piece by piece. The others knew it was him, of course. Not they really cared that much, leaving him to his own devices. That was fine. Tony Stark didn't do teams.

He left the gear in the team kitchen, in the middle of the night, when he knew no one was there. Then back to his room, or the workshop, and feel numb for a while. He wasn't angry, he couldn't be anymore. Just drained. A cold feeling always seemed to drape over his shoulders, something that no amount of heat could fix. His head pulsed along with his heartbeat, a constant reminder that he was alive, and he didn't deserve a second of that life. The edge was so close, and he could swear he could taste it. Then, something would pull him, a battle, a question, a meeting. Like fate was determined to keep his miserable life suspended indefinitely, just close enough only to reel him back in.

He watched the news as often as he could. Villains and crime picked up everyday, people willing to try and take on the Avengers, only to be knocked back down. The world kept moving on, seemingly forgetting that they were being held in balance by a handful of people. The scales were always being moved, only to be balanced again, over and over. Tony wondered if it was even worth it to fight as often as they did. Why save the world if all the world called you was a monster? The merchant of death, Tony Stark, murderer extraordinaire. Stark Industries, the giant that had almost all the appliances in the world under its name. Phones and computers and tablets. Stark, Stark, Stark. Tony had a motivation. If the world wanted to be angry, let it be. He had everything under his thumb. Fate had kept him alive for a reason, right? If his life was going to be lived, might as well live it well. Might as well save the world while you're at it.

The world was unaware. No one who had a modern phone or computer could've been paranoid enough to be. The internet was a scary place, and almost everyone was connected to it.

You're always the hero in your own story.

Why let the world's fate hang in the balance of a couple of people?

If you want to save the world, you have to control it first.


	2. Chapter 2

Sure, there were a lot of problems to fix, and most of them would take more than one lifetime to complete, but Tony wasn't worried. A trademark smirk here, a rolling of eyes there, and the world turned its back and let him do what he pleased. No one in the tower even bothered to notice, too focused on petty villains and idiots whose egos were big enough to make them think they could take on a team of superheroes by themselves. Tony wasn't that stupid. Take them out, one by one, until the world notices too late that it just might be the asshole Tony Stark behind it all. Phones and computers were easy to get into when you were the one who designed almost all of them. People were harder, fickle and unpredictable. Tony didn't gamble, didn't feel safe until he knew what all the possible outcomes were, and wouldn't do anything until and variable was either under his control, or destroyed entirely.

The world mourned the death of Black Widow, an unfortunate accident when the building wasn't as stable as it looked. A piece of rubble, and she was dead. No saving her. Tony paid for the entire funeral, and anyone who'd known her as Natasha in any capacity came. Steve spoke, eyes wide and either so empty they looked right through you, or so full of emotion you couldn't look at them. Tony let himself smile in the lab, the world mourning its loss, but what was one hero? Surely the Avengers could keep protecting them all, even down a man.

Tony knew she had to go first, or the entire thing would never work. She was a little to smart, a little to perceptive. Although, considering she'd blindly believed him when he told her the building was steady, maybe not. Steve has even given him a pep talk, telling him how it wasn't his fault. Tony has nearly burst into laughter, biting the inside of his lip to stop himself. But the fact that Steve knew presented an issue.

Tony has planned to do this faster, but that wouldn't work. One time was a tragic accident. Twice in a row was an issue, and anything more than that was a very bad pattern for anyone to notice. It was now or never if he wanted to move forward, to save the world.

They thanked him at first, Tony Stark, the most generous man on the planet, who gave the world clean energy with the flick of his wrist. The oil and coal companies fought him at first, but Tony knew they'd be taken down easily. If you could rally everyone behind someone, you'd always lose someone along the way, someone who questioned the leader just a little too loudly. But if you rallied them against someone? Well, people loved to fight for what they get told is the right thing. Tony just had to point them in the right direction, to get the word out about how they controlled the world, that they were the real villains. Then he could sit back and watch, laugh in the lab as people claimed their freedom, declaring it loudly, while under the direction from a man who planned to take the downed ruler's place.

The problem, Tony figured, with ruling the world was sustainability. You could take it over easily, clearly. But the issue was always squashing rebellions without causing another two to pop up, stronger than the last. There were always anarchists, people who wanted no part of society as a whole. But those people were much easier to shut up than the people who questioned the leader. Every ruler gets overthrown at some point, even the loved ones. The solution, then, is not to rule the world. But that doesn't work with his plan.

The next to go had nothing to do with Tony, ironically. While fighting robots downtown, poor Falcon hit a building just a little to hard. Tony actually felt a little bad for the guy, who never really asked for any of this. By the time medical had arrived, he was too far gone. Tony paid for the funeral again, and did his best to act aloof, but breaking on the inside. Steve was a mess, two members down so close after one another. Bucky tried to comfort him, but both soldiers were broken for months. Tony stayed out of the public eye, and the world cried out for a man they never knew personally.

If the solution to rule the world is not to rule the world, then the problem gets stuck. But there could be another answer. A figurehead was a lot easier to blame, rather than the puppet master. The puppet was seen, heard, either hated or loved. The puppet master was a shadow, sitting behind the stage. But even the stage had to decay after a while. The solution was temporary, but useful to think about. But who made a good enough puppet?


End file.
